


Self Destruct

by popsicletheduck



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Canon Divergence, Gen, Suicide, and connor picks the sad one, deviant connor route, maybe eventually, might be interesting to see the other option, there's a choice at the end, this is the more angsty version of this idea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2019-06-18 15:34:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15489048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/popsicletheduck/pseuds/popsicletheduck
Summary: He can’t lie to himself anymore. He’s becoming deviant, and that means he’s putting everyone around him in danger when he finally snaps. He can’t do that.So Connor decides to take matters into his own hands.





	Self Destruct

The ride back from Kamski’s was quiet, or as quiet as it ever got in Hank’s car with his music playing. But Connor’s programs informed him that Hank seemed… pleased. It didn’t make sense. They’d been so close to answers, so close to figuring this out, if only… 

Connor has expected his partner to be upset, frustrated, angry, to berate him for letting his opportunity slip through their fingers, for sparing a machine, for exhibiting signs of deviancy. To be loud and brash and bitter and all those things Connor had come to expect. Instead he’d just been… quiet.

It didn’t make sense, nothing made sense. 

_ I’m not a deviant. _

His own words seemed to lodged somewhere in the back of his throat, an intrusion he couldn’t force away. It was the truth, right? He wasn’t, Amanda would’ve warned him, would’ve told him, Amanda wouldn’t let him…

In an instant his programming sprung to life, one meant for reviewing the details of a case in order to discover previously unnoticed leads or connections. But instead of focusing on the deviant case Connor turned it onto himself, analyzing his actions, his decisions, his lines of logic. It dug through every choice he’d made, leaving nothing overlooked or unconsidered.

When it finally displayed its results, the object in his throat that he knew wasn’t there seemed to grow.

_ 87% chance of becoming deviant in the next 48 hours. _

He knew what he needed to do. He needed to return to Cyberlife, to report himself, let himself be disassembled so they could discover what was wrong with him and fix it with the next model, hell, he needed to tell Amanda, but…

Facing the prospect of deactivation was what caused many androids to become deviant. And he was programmed with far more knowledge of combat than any other android previously designed. If he turned deviant around humans, the results could be disastrous. He wouldn’t be able to ensure the safety of anyone around him, not even…

His eyes flickered to Hank in the driver’s seat, whose fingers drummed lightly against the steering wheel along with the music, completely unaware of the fact that his partner was a ticking time bomb.

No. He needed to take care of this problem. And he needed to do it himself.

 

The wind was blowing stiffly off the river, tugging at his coat and hair. Connor’s sensors registered that it was 23 degrees Fahrenheit, accounting for wind chill. Cold for humans, but he felt no difference.

He hadn’t been programmed with any aesthetic appreciation, but he found himself agreeing with Hank’s statement from the night before as he stared out over the river, the lights of the city rippling and shifting with the movement of the water. It was a nice view.

Certainly a suitable view for the last thing he would ever see.

Some small, distant part of his software noted that he was currently breaking the law, standing there in possession of a gun, although the legality of what he was about to do was unclear at best.

He weighed the gun in his hands. He knew it was loaded with a single bullet.

_ You were lucky. The next shot would have killed you. _

Connor pressed the muzzle underneath his chin, finger resting lightly on the trigger.

Hank had asked him, not far from the spot where he stood now, whether he was afraid to die.

_ Why would I be afraid? _ he had countered.

_ You can’t kill me. I’m not alive. _

Still, he felt an odd hesitance to pull the trigger. He wasn’t afraid, but that didn’t mean he wanted to die either. It was regrettable, he decided, that his existence was going to end this way, as a failure, as a deviant, with his mission unfinished and deviancy still not understood.

Maybe Cyberlife would be able to glean some information from his remains.

He closed his eyes.

A car slammed into park somewhere behind him, a squeaky door thrown open and heavy footsteps. A flicker of frustration sparked in Connor’s chest. A bystander could potentially make this far more difficult than it needed to be. His finger tightened on the trigger. If he shot right now, he could potentially-

“Connor, what the fuck are you doing?!”

Oh.

He opened his eyes, although he made no move to lower the gun. “Lieutenant, I must ask that you not interfere. This is necessary.”

“Put the gun down, Connor,” Hank continued as if Connor hadn’t said anything. He was still approaching, each step crunching against old snow, careful and hesitant.

“I’m sorry, Hank. I didn’t want you to see this.”

“Don’t you fucking dare!” Hank shouts, his voice cracking on the last word. “That’s a goddamn order, do you hear me? Put the gun down!”

“You did say I never did as I was told.”

“Connor!”

The lights on the river flickered, an unsteady reflection as the wind drove the water into choppy waves. The clouds shifted and rolled overhead, a heavy weight of grey over the city.

A single gunshot echoed across the water, short and sharp and terrible.


End file.
